Of Australians and Crossdressers
by Michelle H. C. Zhu
Summary: A series of short, non–romantic drabbles featuring the redhead and brunette that we all know and love: Amelda and Varon. Additional cameos include the rest of the Doma cast.
1. Drabble One

"Mate, what's with the shirt?"

He was in the middle of reading a vampire science-fiction novel when the question had popped out of thin air.

It was very interesting actually, the book of course; because the author had taken the pleasure to write many gory scenes with explicit descriptions about how the vampire would torture his victims before killing them. Amelda was up to the part where the vampire would gorge out a man's eyeballs before ripping out his spinal cord and then proceeded to wrap it around the victim's neck and strangle him with it.

This was basically what he wanted to do to Varon right now.

Amelda shot him a menacing glare. "What's wrong with my shirt?"

The Australian removed himself from his position in the hallway and walked inside his room. He strode over to where Amelda was lying comfortably on the bed and sat down next to him. "There's nothing wrong with your shirt. It just looks…strange."

Amelda set down his novel on his lap. "Strange?" he repeated flatly.

"Yeah, strange. It looks so…" Varon waved his arms around and exaggerated the word 'so' with big, loopy motions. "…so…"

The redhead rolled his eyes at his comrade's ridiculous antics. Why couldn't Varon leave him alone already? Didn't he have anything better to do than annoy the people around him?

"…so…"

Amelda leaned over by the nightstand and grasped a mug filled to the brim with a dark brown liquid. He took a sip of his chocolate while Varon continued flailing his arms around.

Varon paused for a moment, searching for the right adjective, before it came to him. He grinned and pointed a jabbed a finger in Amelda's direction.

"Your. Shirt. Is. _Feminine_." He declared smugly.

Amelda spat out the drink; efficiently staining his nice, clean carpet by doing so. He slammed his mug down. "E-excuse me?"

"It shows too much of your skin—your abs mainly," Varon snorted and flexed his own, well-toned, totally-_unfeminine _muscles. He flashed an arrogant grin at the half-glaring, half-disgusted redhead. He sneered.

"Don't feel bad, Amelda. It's not as if a bloke like you have anything to show off anyway..." His gaze flickered upwards. "And you also have the strangest hair that I've ever seen."

Amelda wiped his mouth.

_Obnoxious brat._

It was official. Any and all Australians were banned from ever stepping foot into this room again. He sent the armor-clad boy the iciest glare he could muster and pointed to the exit. "Varon, shut up and get out."

Varon stuck out his tongue childishly. "It's a free country you know. I'm just speaking my mind."

"You are so **not** speaking your mind," Amelda snapped back. "You're just telling me I'm girly-man because of my shirt."

The brunette smirked. "Well, I can't deny that, mate. You ARE a crossdresser."

Amelda's eyes narrowed into tiny little slits. "Take that back."

"Heh, give me one reason to."

Amelda leaped from his bed, lifting his book threateningly over Varon's head. Varon made a mental note to never let the older boy read a book again in case he might end up in a coma.

"TAKE. IT. BACK." he snarled.

Varon drew back from the seething redhead and his Vampire novel of Doom. "Fine, fine!" he pouted and crossed his arms.

"You're not a cross-dresser," he mumbled grudgingly. He paused, deep in thought. "But you still have the strangest hair."

Amelda growled under his breath, but set down his book nonetheless. He shot Varon what had to be like the umpteenth glare during that hour. "So now you got a problem with my hair?" he muttered fiercely.

But Varon took no heed of the silent promise of death in his voice and continued to ramble; though more to himself now than to the boy in front of him.

"It looks so unnaturally…_magenta_! I mean, did you dye your hair the wrong color or something?" he exclaimed, now facing the wall rather than Amelda.

Amelda cracked his knuckles. Oh, the Aussie would pay for that…

He was about to pounce on the armor-clad boy and beat the stuffing out of him, if he hadn't continue 'speaking his mind'.

"And speaking of which, I watched your duels! The only thing you do is make cheap insults and smack down some weak machine monsters!"

"Well, excuse me, _Aussie_," Amelda spat. "But I'd like to see you—"

The Australian shushed him with a wave of the hand.

"—and really, Amelda, but what's with your clichéd revenge scheme? I know that Gozoborou killed your family…but Seto? The poor guy did absolutely nothing so I don't see why you're going after him. If I didn't know better, mate, then I would have thought you were obsessed with Kaiba for _other_ reasons—"

That broke the straw on the camel's back. Amelda hastily pushed the young boy to the exit without further notice. Varon gaped in confusion.

"Whoa, hey, wait—" he protested.

Amelda took this opportunity to kick him in the butt.

"OUT."

And the door slammed behind him. Varon sorely rubbed his backside before turning around and staring at the door in irritation. A pout formed on his lips.

"Jeez, I didn't say anything _wrong_...that bloke has _anger_ problems…"

He frowned.

"…not to mention that he wears the most_ feminine _shirt…"


	2. Drabble Two

Had Varon actually had a brain that was functioning, he'd realize from the last encounter with Amelda—(which had ended up with the Australian having a sore butt for the rest of the week, but that's beside the point)—that it was better to leave the redhead alone when he was busy.

Had Varon actually had any common sense underneath those ugly-as-Hell goggles, then his instincts would have probably directed him away from the older boy when his nose was buried in a book.

And had Varon actually decided** NOT** to hit his head on the bedpost this morning (and lose a third of his brain cells by doing so) then he would have known that Amelda was very, very dangerous when was interrupted from his reading.

…but Varon being Varon, he hadn't any of the three.

Varon was curious why his gray-eyed comrade had to constantly read books during his spare time, rather than doing something more interesting…like picking a fight? Or riding his bike? Maybe even chasing after a _girl_?

He grinned. Since seducing pretty lasses was his specialty, he could definitely help in that area. Varon the matchmaker!

The brunette resisted the urge to strike a fancy pose on that moment.

* * *

Varon crept his way downstairs and headed towards the living room. He spotted a fringe of red hair sticking out behind the couch. Was he sleeping? Well, it was time wake him up! Varon took a deep breath and declared on the top of his voice:

"HEY, Amelda, you know that Anzu girl? Yeah, well, I think she's **HOT**!"

Silence.

The brunette poked his head curiously in the living room. "Amelda?"

When Amelda didn't respond, he bounced his way over to where the redhead was lying with a pillow propped up behind his head. He was slightly crestfallen when he noticed that Amelda was reading a book, yet _once _again. But Varon…being…well, _Varon,_ decided not to let that fact depress his enthusiasm. Varon snatched the book out of the Amelda's hands, earning a startled yelp from the older boy.

Varon looked eagerly at him. "So Amelda, what do you think of her, huh?"

The poor unfortunate victim, Amelda, merely blinked, trying to contain his emotions. He was half-glad that wasn't drinking hot chocolate or else the nice carpet would be stained again.

You see, Amelda had nothing better to do with his life than plotting Kaiba's revenge and occasionally glaring evilly at Dartz who was really beginning to piss him off with his constant jabber of the Great Leviathan. Apart from doing those two things, Amelda also had nothing better to do than to read random books during his spare time.

And yes, he has no life.

Amelda continued staring up at the brunette with a bewildered expression, obviously not understanding a single word that just came out of his mouth.

"…huh?" he finally said. Oh, let us take a moment and be awed over how large and expansive Amelda's vocabulary is.

…

And to think, we actually thought he was _smart_.

But Varon, being even…less…smart than the above-mentioned redhead, decided to completely ignore his comrade's puzzled behavior and continued hassling him like a fat boy on a lollipop.

"You know mate, Anzu! I'm sure you've seen her around with the pharaoh before—she's about this tall—also happens to be a brunette—very pretty—you should see the size of her bust—"

His mind automatically shut out Varon's voice after the last statement. Amelda sighed half-heartedly.

What did the Aussie want with him now? And more importantly, why did the Aussie want him to date a _girl_?

"She's seems to be your type, as well! I suggest you go out on a date with her—"

"That's wonderful, Varon—now shut the Hell up," he interrupted dryly and gave Varon his iciest glare. "Your voice is clogging up my brain space."

Varon frowned. Now that was just insulting.

He proceeded to teach the older boy a lesson in manners by pulling the pillow from underneath Amelda's head. Amelda growled, in which he responded with a charming grin. Varon then jumped over the couch and landed next to the protesting redhead.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded angrily.

Varon put his hands on his hips and gave the redhead the most serious look he could muster. "I want you to stop reading and get a life," he stated firmly. "I want you to ask that Anzu girl out."

Amelda merely gave him the _'are-you-bullshitting-me'_ look. "And how do you suppose I proceed with that?" he replied flatly.

Varon considered this for a moment, before snapping his fingers in delight. "Well, you could just tie her up and then threaten her like you do to Kaiba—" Varon suddenly noticed the death glare that was being sent in his direction and inwardly cringed. "…or…_not_."

Amelda scowled at him for a moment longer. "I don't have a clue who you're talking about, Aussie."

The armor-clad boy blinked. "Yes you do! That girl around the Pharaoh!" he protested. "You know! Anzu…Manacle…or something…wait, no…" Varon frowned. Now what was her name, again?

While Varon was trying to figure out the name of that mystery girl, Amelda snatched the book out of his loose grasp. "Tell me when I care," he replied indifferently.

The redhead directed his attention back to his book—which now happened to be on insects, courtesy of Weevil Underwood. Amelda mused over this thought.

Who knew that a microscopic-sized creature with six feet and a pair of wings could actually be more interesting than Varon at the moment?

The brunette slapped his forehead. He inwardly groaned. Why did Amelda have to be so _dense_? And why couldn't he think of her name? He'd remember seeing her with the pharaoh…now what did he call her? Anzu…Anzu…_Mazurka_?

"Maze…Mara…" he mull over.

Amelda rolled his eyes, no longer interested in what Varon blabbering about. (Not that he was interested in what Varon was blabbering about to begin with, but once again, that's _beside_ the point.)

"Magalia…Malachi?"

"…"

"_Mazomanie_?"

"…"

Varon nibbled on his lower lip in frustration. "I know that her last name had the word 'Maza' in it…" he muttered to himself. Now what could it be?

Amelda decided not to point out 'Maza' wasn't a word and instead thought back to the name of a famous Japanese general in the 1920's he had looked up to.

"Mazaki?" he supplied uninterestedly. He flipped a page of his, ahem—_Haga's_ book. Oh, look! It was a picture of the African Bactrododema Hippotaurum! Oh, the sarcasm.

Varon blinked, realization dawning upon him. He spun around to face the older boy.

"That's it! Mazaki!" he exclaimed eagerly, making Amelda wonder curiously what in the Hell the Aussie was congratulating him for. If that wasn't enough, Varon suddenly leaned forward and grasped his shirt, pulling their faces together until all the redhead could see were big baby-blue eyes staring excitedly at him.

"Alright, now, you **MUST** have seen Anzu Mazaki at least once! I mean, the gal's hot. Just stands out in the crowd," he gushed. "Well, huh, mate, what do you think of her, huh, huh, huh?"

Amelda pushed him away with a grunt. He looked up at the armor-clad boy with an annoyed expression.

He quirked an eyebrow.

"…now just _who_ are we talking about again?"

The Australian fell to the floor, anime-style. Amelda calmly dusted himself off before returning to his book.

So much for Varon the matchmaker.


	3. Drabble Three

"_Kai-ipa pai-iti-inoka noi kaxailiti…"_

"Err…Dartz-sama…do you think we should separate those two?"

Dartz shook his head impatiently and brushed off the fingers that were tapping his shoulder. Oh, how he wished for some peace and quiet. He rolled his mismatched eyes to the ceiling. Lords, what did he do to be cursed with this kind of impertinence?

"Not now, you buffoon—I'm busy," he muttered darkly under his breath and returned to his chanting. _"…ti-i ti-inoi xa-asa alino-osati kaonoi_…"

"But, Master Dartz, the upholstery—"

_CRASH. _

"…never mind."

"Uh…Dartz-sama, the windows—"

_BOOM. _

"…forget it."

Dartz sighed. Now this was getting ridiculous.

"Dartz-sama...I think Varon just set a wall full of souls on fire."

He face-faulted, wondering why he actually got out of bed this morning. The man standing in front of him watched blankly as his two comrades ran around in circles around the altar room for some reason that ceased to make sense.

"DON'T YOU INSULT MAI!"

_SCREEEEE._

"GET OFF ME, AUSSIE!"

Nope, it still didn't make any sense to him. Raphael could only find one reason of truth in this entire deranged situation they were currently stuck in.

"…you two quarrel like a married couple," he finally stated.

Almost immediately, the entire altar room became silent. Dartz actually stopped his chanting, Varon squeaked, and Amelda froze in mid-movement. Raphael vaguely noticed that Amelda had a floor lamp in his grasp and that it was an inch away from colliding with the brunette's head. Good thing he was in too much shock to move.

Silence ensued for the next…5.5 seconds. Of course, the person who decided to break this peaceful silence was none other than—

"…a MARRIED couple, mate? A BLOODY MARRIED COUPLE?"

—yes, Varon. (If you haven't yet inferred from the cheesy Australian accent.)

Varon was furious. Them! A married **COUPLE**! He pointed an angry finger at Amelda and began yelling at the blonde.

"What do you want me to do, get down on a knee and propose to this nimrod here?"

Amelda immediately pulled away and glared evilly at him. "I'd cut of your genitals on the spot," he growled.

Varon glared back. "Hey, at least I actually have genitals to cut off, unlike you—"

"—ARE YOU IMPLYING THAT I'M A WOMAN?"

The floor lamp came crashing down on his skull.

"AMELDA! THAT HURT LIKE A BITC—"

The Atlantean scoffed and removed himself from his kneeling position. He sauntered over to where the blonde was standing and draped an arm over his shoulder. "You see Raphael, aren't these two just _adorable_ together?" he asked in a tone practically dripping with sarcasm. "I mean we should _totally _stop my ten millennia plan to summon the Great Leviathan to set up a honeymoon for these two…"

Raphael sweatdropped, wondering why his master was being so touchy-feely at the moment. "Of course, Dartz-sama…uh…whatever you say."

Dartz slapped him on the back of his head.

"I was being sarcastic, you imbecile."

"Oh."

"…"

Dartz glared over at Varon and Amelda. "What are you two **STARING** at?" he snapped.

Varon twitched an eye. Amelda however, looked like he was on the verge of having an eruption. Did I say _on the_ _verge_? Whoops.

"If we got MARRIED? MARRIED?"

He exploded.

"Ok, _this_ will be how our marriage—we'll be in the church, right? Aussie here will distract the receptionists while I whip out my katana and kill everybody in the room. But we'll be hunted down by the police so I'll grow my bangs and he'll dye his hair purple, and then the two of us will cross the borders and run off to Mexico where we'll live as fugitives under the names of Finback and Abington working in some labor union for the rest of our mediocre lives!"

Amelda took a deep breath before concluding his little rant.

"And **THAT**, my dear friends, is how our marriage would turn out."

There was silence the altar room for the second time that day. However, this stage of silence happened to last longer than the last one seeing as Varon had passed out cold on the ground upon hearing that his hair would be purple in a few years.

Everybody else who was conscious, blinked at his outburst—surprised, shocked, and somewhat constipated to hear those words come out of the normally calm and collected Amelda.

Surprisingly, it was Dartz who was the one broke the silence.

"…like McDonalds?" he suggested curiously after considering what the redhead had said. Raphael hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uh, Master Dartz, that's a _restaurant_."

The Atlantean frowned. "Well excuse me, servant, but I'm sorry if I can't distinguish the difference between a bunch of Mexicans and a worn-down bistro," he snapped back, emphasizing the word 'servant' far more than necessary and probably degrading poor Raphael while he was at it.

On the other side of the altar room, Varon was having a nice, clean, totally un-perverted dream about Mai.

"…mmm...yes...harder, Mai, harder…WHAAA!"

Amelda stopped kicking Varon in the head. "Dreaming that you're screwing that whore again?" he asked flatly.

Varon shook his head and sat up. "What happened…" he said groggily before realization dawned upon him. "…wait, **WHAT** did you call Mai?"

Amelda raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Raphael rolled his eyes.

Dartz moaned.

The brunette leaped onto his feet and charged at Amelda. "OH, I WILL KILL YOU, MATE!"

"BRING IT ON!"

_CRASH. BOOM. SCREEE._

…so much for that statue of Hitler.

Raphael turned his back from the two of them and looked at the older man who had returned to his Atlantean chanting. He sighed—what a dysfunctional family they had. Raphael rubbed his head and continued listening to Dartz's chanting.

"Anoti tiono no-oti paolikaiti tio tili-ikali-iano io-oli tionoatioisa…"

A blond brow furrowed in confusion. Wait, that wasn't right.

"…did you just tell the Great Beast to dry-clean his tomatoes?"


	4. Drabble Four

Amelda knew that he should have stayed in bed when Varon came prancing into the kitchen on that fine Wednesday morning, waving his arms frantically and screaming, "_WE'RE ALL_ _SCREWED_!" on the top of his lungs.

He frowned. They were **NOT** all screwed. He himself was still a virgin and was perfectly sure that Raphael was straight. Grabbing the spasmodic brunette by one of his armor pads, Amelda pulled him to the side and whacked his head for a good measure. "You're an idiot," he stated flatly.

Varon retaliated by sticking out his tongue. "Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am not."

"Am too…dammit."

Amelda stepped back, placing both hands on his hips and flashing a smug smirk. It took a few seconds for Varon to realize his screw-up. He slapped his forehead. How could he fall for the classical fast-talk mix-up? That was practically grade school!

"Amelda…I hate you," he muttered. "Hate. Hate. Hate."

The older boy quirked an eyebrow. "Hate me because I'm smarter than you?"

An indignant sputter. "You are **NOT **smarter than me!"

"Oh, is that so? Then solve this math problem."

"What are you talking about—?"

Varon was cut off as two gloved fingers were held up directly in front of his face. He blinked. He stole a glance at Amelda; his expression was as cold as ever.

"My fingers mark the parabola called B," Amelda began solemnly. "The floor lamp next to me is going to be assumed as seven feet tall. Calculate the specific features keeping these bits of information in mind and deduce the range, assuming a consistent speed for my hand upon any other air ratio interference of dust and wind within the arc that takes the flight from the movements of my fingers to the lamp."

"…"

"In simple words—tell me how long it'll take for me to turn on the light. You have ten seconds."

Varon was out of his sight in a flash.

The gray-eyed boy heard a distant shout, a small scuffle, a thump, and then saw Raphael shoved out of his own bedroom with his Guardian cards in his grasp by no other than Varon.

He watched painfully as said Varon unwillingly pushed the older man down the hallway, the bottom of his boots scraping the floor in what had to be the highest and most annoying screech he had ever heard in his lifetime. Amelda winced, wishing he had a pair of earplugs at hand.

With a final push, Raphael was standing face to face with the redhead. He blinked for a few times, wondering if the reason for him being shanghaied from his own room was because Amelda got a face-lift and that Varon was excited to show him his new…face or something. Coming to the conclusion that was pure crap, Raphael stiffly turned around and glowered at the brunette. "What do you want me to do with him?"

"He tricked me and made me look like a fool!" Varon snapped his fingers impatiently at Amelda. "Tell him the equation!"

"Sure thing," Amelda ignored the confused look he was getting from the blonde and held out his fingers again. "My fingers mark the parabola called B," he began slowly, hoping Raphael would catch on. "The floor lamp next to me is…"

Behind them, Varon had his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. That'll teach the red-headed nimrod not to make a fool out of him, he thought loftily. After all, there was no way in the seven Hells that Raphael could—

"—twenty-four and three-quarters of a minute."

For the second time that day, Varon's jaw dropped.

"Is that right? Unless you want it in seconds…"

Amelda beamed. "No, it's good."

Varon's jaw dropped even further. "How did you **DO** that?" he cried. Raphael merely blinked and frowned.

"Well, all you need to do is to hypothesize under very uncertain trigonometrically-measured conditions and then apply the laws of kinetics to whatever you come up with." He shrugged. "It's not that hard."

…_NOT THAT HARD?_

"But—that—him—" he sputtered indignantly. Coming to a quick conclusion, the brunette spun around to face Amelda, who, mind you, was looking awfully more cheerful than usual which didn't please him the very least. Varon pointed an indignant finger in his face. "You framed me!"

He smirked. "_Puh-lease_, Varon. Nobody in the right mind would paint a picture of you and hang it up on a wall with a $500 Montgomery border." Amelda leaned forward and playfully flicked the top of Varon's nose. "You. Aren't. Worth it."

By now, Varon was just in the right mind to take a fork and stab the boy in front of him repeatedly over and over again. Luckily for Amelda though, the brunette couldn't do such a thing in Raphael's presence.

"Fine, **BE THAT WAY**," he huffed crossly. Varon paused for a moment before glaring at the redhead again. "I know you set me up to make me look stupid! I mean, Raph knowing math is one thing, because he's smart" —Raphael flashed a grateful smile— "but if you go to any other **NORMAL** person and ask them all that number-hodgepodge-mishmash, they won't be able to…to…_conduct_ the first variable!" he finished off pompously.

Amelda had a hard time keeping the smile off his face. Hodgepodge mishmash? Gods, he was such a child.

"Alright, Varon," he replied in an amused tone. "Just bring any other…_normal_"_ —_he air finger quoted—_ "_person to me and let's see if you're theory of being 'set up' by me still stands firm after my next math problem."

Seeing his guiltless expression, Varon's eyebrow twitched. He leaned forwards and grasped the collar of his trench-coat and pulled Amelda towards him until there noses were touching. Blue clashed with gray.

"I hate you. HATE…HATE…HATE…"

* * *

"…hate…hate…hate…"

"Wonderful. That was my goal, anyway."

"…hate…hate…"

"You're still not going to give up are you?"

"I'm not an idiot. I'll prove it."

"By using Mai to do the dirty work for you? Well, I'll be damned…"

Varon would have retorted back, but kept silent as the pair stopped directly in front of Mai Kujaku's bedroom door. He knocked solemnly on the wood, wondering in the back of his mind if this was the best thing to do. Within a few seconds, the door opened to reveal a worn-out and distressed Mai who looked as if the nightmares had been plaguing her again. But this served to please Amelda even more.

"Hello there, Kujaku-san."

"…hi, Mai."

Mai Kujaku glared darkly at the two Doma warriors standing in her doorway. Varon was uncharacteristically sullen yet Amelda looked as if his face was on an overdose of botox due to all the smiling.

"What do you two strudels want?"

"Well, you see, Kujaku-san," Amelda began, ignoring the fact that he had just been just called a pastry. "We have a problem that we can't solve. Varon here, often bragged about your…_feminine intellectual wit_ so we both decided that since you're definitely _a hell of a lot _smarter than the two of us…"

Varon shot a glare at Amelda. He loved Mai, but this was getting ridiculous.

"…you can help us solve the problem," he finished.

Mai's amethyst narrowed dangerously and she looked as if she was on the verge of bitch-slapping the round of them to next Thursday had it not been for that tiny hint of flattery.

"Fine. Then, spit it out," she snarled.

Amelda's smile grew even wider. Varon blinked in apprehension. He nudged the gray-eyed boy on the side. "…give her the hardest thing you could come up with," he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

"Gotcha."

Amelda took a deep breath.

"If I had five apples and I took away one apple…how many apples would I have left?"

…

…

…

"ARE YOU CRAZY?" Varon shrieked and wildly threw his arms up in the air. "**THAT** WAS THE BEST YOU COULD COME UP WITH?"

He regarded Varon with a timid lip pout. "I have my limits you know. It's not like I have an enormous amount of brainpower. I'm no genius like Seto Kaiba."

Varon stared. Then he spun around to face the blonde who had been ignored for the past two minutes. "Mai, just—"

_SLAM._

A gust of wind. Silence.

Having forgotten (or merely ignoring) the recent turn of events, Varon turned to the redhead with a rekindle of his old brash face. "…she didn't say anything," he pointed out smugly. "Maybe she doesn't know the answer."

Amelda raised an amused eyebrow. As if on cue, the door suddenly opened again and out popped Mai's head; her face bursting with tomato-red fury.

"IT'S FOUR, YOU LOSERS!"

_SLAM._

Varon stiffly wiped the spit/lipstick gunk off his cheeks. His face turned stony again. "Amelda."

The redhead let out an airy laugh. "Yes, I know. You hate me."

"…tartar sauce."


	5. Drabble Five

Amelda had come to the conclusion that his master was very drunk when he hired Varon because the red-haired boy could honestly not understand what Dartz could have **SEEN **in him when sober. Or perhaps, it was the completely other way around. Varon could have forced the Atlantean to have him join the organization, for surely nobody in the right mind would have hired a dipstick like him, right?

"Are we finished yet?" Amelda asked irately.

Varon merely glared back at the older boy, but said nothing. "And now, I, Varon the magician shall attempt—"

"—and fail—"

"—says you—"

"—yeah, says me—"

"—don't make me shoot you—"

"—I'll get a bullet-proof vest—"

"—what? No tank top?—"

"—oh, oh, you** want** the tank top?—"

"—yeah, so I can mock it—"

"—I didn't know you were attracted to my clothing—"

"—I'm not attracted to your clothing—"

"—don't worry, I'll go and tell Mai you're gay—"

"—**TO FREE MYSELF** and this _lovely _volunteer from these handcuffs," Varon finally proclaimed in a loud voice, emphasizing the extra adjective with a heavy amount of sarcasm. Amelda snorted and would have crossed his arms had it not been for the fact he was handcuffed to said boy in question. This was going to be good.

"Alakazam!" he watched the brunette cry pompously. "Handcuffs…open!"

Varon tapped the handcuffs with his wand.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Nothing happened.

Ignoring the obvious roll of eyes from his comrade, Varon the magician nervously bit his lip and tried again. "Alakazam! Handcuffs…open!"

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

The handcuffs still remained in place.

"Did you read the instructions that came with the package?"

"Shut up." After a moment's silence, Varon waved his wand once again and tapped the handcuffs. "Alohomora!"

He resisted the urge to smack the younger boy on the head. "This isn't Harry Potter, you nitwit."

"Yes, yes, I know…" Varon shot back. He gave Amelda the hardest glare he could muster up. "But I had to try something—" his voice lowered a tone "—lest you go all bitchy menstrual on me again."

The redhead purposely knew Varon was just aggravating him on purpose and overlooked the bait. "Not a girl. Don't care."

A sly grin spread on his face. "Isn't that truth?"

"Stop provoking me."

"I ain't provoking you, mate."

"You're provoking me right now."

"Don't get all PMS-ing on me."

Amelda's eye began twitching. "Tell you what. Once you get these _things_ of my hands, I personally TAKE OFF MY PANTS and SHOW YOU—"

"—your lovely three-inched secret?" Varon yanked his right hand harshly and dragged the attached gray-eyed boy to the floor. "No thank you," he laughed. "There's nothing you have that I haven't seen with my own two eyes."

A shadow passed over Amelda's features and he swung his leg to trip the brunette. Varon fell to the ground with an _'oomph_.' "For the last time, I am **NOT** a girl," the redhead stated irritably. "Insults like that don't work on me."

Varon brushed himself off. "What, oh really? Sorry, but I was too busy gawking at your—"

"—yes, yes, my shirt, my shirt," Amelda sighed and rolled his eyes for what had to be the umpteenth time that hour. He rose up from the ground, lugging the unleveled brunette along with him. "Now if you would just get these HANDCUFFS off us—" he held up the dangling pieces of metal on his wrist and glared lividly at the younger boy who merely stuck out his tongue.

"What do you think I've been trying to **DO **all this time?"

Amelda actually considered this for a moment. "Prove that I was actually born in a masculine test tube," he said in a reasonable voice after a moment.

He frowned. "I ain't no Science whiz."

He quirked a brow before clapping his hands in an obviously sarcastic manner. "Double negatives, Varon, good **job**. It appears you—" he held up his fingers and air-quoted "—_ain't no English whiz _either."

"…did I mention that I hated you?"

"All of last week, after you used Mai as your quadratic math doll bait," he replied dryly and looked warningly at Varon when he opened his mouth. "Just try another damn command."

He sulked for a moment. "Open Sesame!"

"…"

"Scrub a dub dub, three men in a tub!"

Amelda slapped his hand across his face.

"Oh-ho-ho and a bottle of rum…"

This was getting ridiculous.

"Give…me…that…" he snatched the black and white wand out of the brunette's hands and looked back at their predicament. Handcuffs. He stared at it intensely, swimming back into his mental rolodex in an attempt to relocate those certain magic words that magicians used on occasions like these.

He took a deep breath and tapped the metal braces with the wand_. Tap. Tap. Tap._ "Abracadabra!"

_Click._ The two Doma warriors watched, one smugly, the other with a rather jerky expression on his face, as the handcuffs that plagued their wrists for so long finally unlocked and slipped off. It landed on the floor with a metallic clatter.

There was a moment of silence as both boys stared down at the handcuffs on the floor in disbelief. Varon finally shook his head. "Pure luck, I tell you. That's what you have. Must have pressed a secret switch or something…"

Amelda crossed his now-free arms elatedly. "Or maybe it's just the brain you're lacking."

"Ha-ha, you're killing me," Varon mumbled darkly. The blue-eyed boy reached down and picked up the metal chains from the ground. He stared at them for a moment, his face unreadable. Then without warning, he grabbed Amelda's wrist and—

"—w-what are you DOING?"

_Click. _

Two words entered his mind: _Holy Shit_.

"I don't see how it could work for you without working for me…" Varon explained cockily and graced the redhead's fears with a crazed grin. With his left hand, he took the disregarded magician's wand from the table. "So let's try it again, shall we?"

This wasn't going to work. Amelda's 6th sense told him so. He watched in muted apprehension as the brunette eagerly waved the plastic wand over the handcuffs.

"Abracadabra!"

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Nothing.

"**ABRACADABRA**!"

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Still nothing. Completely furious at the cheap piece of plastic he bought for $5.99 at Wal-mart, Varon lost all patience and began shouting every single command that came to mind.

"Open up! Unlock! Release! Disengage!"

_Tap. Tap. Tap. SNAP—_

…

Varon turned to face the redhead whose left eyebrow had been twitching to the point of falling off. Suddenly, a nervous grin spread across his face. "…tell you what, mate, how about I treat you to a burger…"

"Aussie, you better run the hell away because when I get my hands on that magical stick of yours…"

A minute later, Varon was heard to be running down the hallways, screaming hysterically at the top of his lungs. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact he wanted to return his magic set and that a broken wand would devalue the price. Or perhaps it was the ridiculously sexual innuendo Amelda had incorporated into his threat.

…this WAS Yuugiou after all.


End file.
